


Once Upon a Dragon

by Crystia



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 11:55:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3066953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystia/pseuds/Crystia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jounouchi skips math class. </p><p>To be fair, it's only because he's trapped in an alternate world, where traveling knights and duel monsters are trying to kill him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Upon a Dragon

Jounouchi dreams of white beasts and gleaming blue eyes.

That’s why when he wakes up, for a disconcerting moment, he mistakes the man in front of him for a dragon, still trapped in a world of monsters and illusions. He inhales sharply, scrabbling for purchase and grasping at the grass beneath him, and then his head clunks back down when he realizes the person staring at him is, indeed, human. Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, he groans and rubs at his face.

“Who’re you?” he mutters at last, blearily blinking away sleep. His world expands from a pair of icy eyes to a man and a daylit sky. A calculating, incomprehensible look is the man’s only response. “What, like I’m the only one who’s ever taken a nap during lunch. Did I miss fifth period?”

 _“Do you speak Raethien?”_ the man interrupts, but Jounouchi squints at him in confusion, only hearing gibberish. Maybe his brain can’t make sense of standard conversation yet, still fuzzy from his drowsy awakening.

He sits up with a groan, the man beside him standing as soon as he does. Jounouchi overlooks him for the moment, studying the nearby vicinity, his jaw growing slack as he takes in his surroundings. The sun is brilliant, vividly lighting up the enormous trees towering over them, unending wilderness in every direction without pavement or a Walmart in sight. He reaches up and brushes leaves from his blond hair, wincing as a twig scratches his thumb and then picking it out irritably. Birds chatter in the background, singing calls that Jounouchi doesn’t recognize from Domino.

He doesn’t see the hill outside of Domino High School, where he could have sworn he fell asleep as he waited for the bell to ring. Nor does he hear his hungover father yelling at him to wake up, or Honda pounding on his door telling him to drag his ass out of bed and get ready for school.

“Dude, where the hell am I?” Jounouchi demands, reaching down and pinching his arm, not letting up until he thinks he’ll draw blood. “Ow!”

He’s awake, he confirms. Rubbing at the newly-formed, swollen red mark, he glances up at the man standing above him, his back facing the sun and casting his expression in an unreadable shadow. Jounouchi scowls and clambers to his feet, disliking the difference in eye-level. His frown deepens when he realizes the man is still taller.

 _“Where are you from?”_ the man states with the same impassiveness from earlier, speaking in a foreign dialect, or at least what Jounouchi assumes is a different language. Otherwise the guy has an incredible poker face, talking nonsense without so much as a twitch of the lips.

Jounouchi slings his arm over his head, grasping his elbow with his other hand and stretching unashamedly. “Yeah, no idea what you’re saying, man. Wanna speak English?”

He raises an eyebrow, a challenge. Jounouchi’s not sure he likes this man, especially when he has no idea when or how he ended up in the middle of the freaking Forest Moon of Endor. Except instead of being greeted by little furry creatures, he’s chatting with a man who looks utterly and earthly human, possibly no older than himself. Now that he catches a closer glimpse, he fidgets beneath the man’s apathetic, blue gaze and orderly brown hair. He bears dark clothes that don’t really fit in with the twenty-first century and he holds himself proudly, almost arrogantly.

_“You should leave this forest. Go back to wherever you came from.”_

Jounouchi blinks mutely at the smooth flow of doubtlessly meaningful but incomprehensible words. He starts when the man spins on his heel, briskly walking in the opposite direction, and Jounouchi gapes when he spots a sword in the man’s belt. Peeking left, then peering right, he decides hell no, he’s not being ditched to fend for himself in the wild. He should still be sleeping on the school lawn or at least in his ratty old bed, for Christ’s sake, not wandering aimlessly without breakfast.

“Hey!” he shouts, chasing after the man after the briefest moment of deliberation. His voice sounds somewhat panicked. So sue him, he’ll cling to the only sign of humanity in the vicinity.

The man eyes him coldly, continuing to walk without slowing down. _“I don’t give tours.”_

“Still nothing,” Jounouchi tells him, somewhat calmer and matching his stride now that he had something, or someone, to focus on. “Look, I don’t know where I am, and I’m betting this is just some fucked up dream, but would it kill you to help me out here?”

 _“I have no sympathy for lost dogs,”_ the man replies, and Jounouchi still can’t understand him, but something about his tone of voice riles him up. It’s almost like a sneer.

“Come _on_ ,” Jounouchi snaps, raising his voice. “You’re not even trying! I don’t even know what fucking _country_ I’m in—”

He’s cut off by a strong hand covering his mouth, and with a gasp the man violently backs him up against a tree, pinned so the bark digs uncomfortably into his back. He lets out a muffled whine, and the his assailant leans unconventionally close.

 _“Are you trying to get us killed?”_ the man snarls, all but spitting in his face. He’s strong, and Jounouchi’s struggling doesn’t so much as weaken his hold. He thinks he hears his shirt rip as he squirms.

“Dude, what the hell?” Jounouchi tries to yell back, but sounds more like “Mmmrfgh!”, and he quickly decides to keep his mouth shut to at least try to maintain some of his dignity.

The man’s eyes dart around the clearing, alert and searching the surrounding trees. His gaze hardens. _“Too late.”_

The man abruptly releases him. Wincing, he rubs his chest painfully and glares fiercely, ready to give the guy a piece of his mind, language barrier or not.

His rant breaks off before it even starts when there’s a delicate sound of metal scratching its sheath, and Jounouchi stumbles back, lifting his arms in surrender when he sees the sword. The weapon glints menacingly, silver and ornate, the man drawing with practiced and lethal ease.

“Hey, now, let’s talk about this,” Jounouchi says nervously, his hands sweating and pacifying above his head. He would give this guy a piece of his mind _after_ there wasn’t a threat of a sword piercing his spleen.

But the man pays him no attention, uninterested, which confuses Jounouchi to no end until he spots what’s behind them. His mouth falls open and he scrambles back, pointing in disbelief, his hand wobbling and if his shirt wasn’t ripped earlier, it certainly is now.

“Is that— Is that—” he stammers, inarticulate in the face of the the monster in front of him.

He stares, unable to perceive the creature in front of him, black legs moving disconcertingly fast and beady eyes observing him hungrily. It’s resembles a beetle, except immensely larger than should be possible. Jounouchi puts a name to it dazedly, Gokibore, he thinks, a duel monster from the card game he plays with Yugi at school. The beetle hisses and clicks, the sounds amplified by its size as the insect creeps forward.

Jounouchi watches motionlessly as it attacks, frozen in place and incapable of running. This isn’t possible, _none_ of this is possible—

It almost doesn’t register when bug juice squirts him in the face, the beetle hacked in half by the other man’s sword.

 _“We’re lucky your stupidity didn’t attract worse,”_ the man says irately, but Jounouchi remains speechless. He doesn’t even wipe the beetle guts from his face. The other man narrows his eyes. _“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a monster before.”_

“What.” Jounouchi’s voice is an octave too high. Monsters exist and he’s lost in a country where he doesn’t recognize the language. He reckons it sounds almost German, maybe, but he doesn’t think Germany has giant, people-sized beetles.

The man lets out a humph of exasperation. _“I don’t have time for this. Don’t follow me.”_

He walks away again. Alone and with no one else in sight, Jounouchi does the only logical thing, deciding he’d rather deal with a pissy, arrogant prick than whatever else this place has to offer. Man-eating spiders and wasps come to mind.

He follows.

ooo

 

The man attempts to lose him, but Jounouchi persistently chases after him, feeling pathetic at first and eventually enraged. He wouldn’t chase after a jerk like him unless he had no other choice, yet the man maintains his stubborn, unsympathetic refusal.

Judging by the sun’s position, Jounouchi arrived in the forest early morning, but now its directly above him and nearing noon. The man veers off whatever path he’d been following, long legs taking two steps for every three of Jounouchi’s, shaking his bag from his shoulders and settling down on a mossy rock. He searches through it contents, an occasional clang reverberating from unknown items until he finally finds what he’s searching for.

“Awesome,” Jounouchi says enthusiastically, plopping down next to his unwilling companion. “Food! I’m starving.”

He reaches out, but the man hits his hand away, eying him with disgust and hostility. _“I don’t have enough food for two people.”_

“Are you serious?” Jounouchi asks indignantly. The bread doesn’t look unduly appetizing, but he hasn’t eaten since the previous night. Eating in front of him and offering him none strikes him as downright cruel.

 _“If you’re stupid enough to wander here unprepared, don’t expect charity,”_ the man retorts, words alien but meaning easy enough to construe.

“I’m hungry,” Jounouchi snaps back, temper short after lacking sustenance for approximately fourteen hours.

The man ignores him. As the minutes pass, Jounouchi slumps in defeat, anger converting to shame and helplessness. He’s demanding food from a stranger, but the man has no obligation to feed him. The forest seems huge so far, and maybe food needs to be rationed if someone wants to make it out in once piece. He has no right to expect people to donate entire meals.

He clasps his hands together, dangling them between his knees and maintaining a steady gaze. If he focuses on them, he won’t be tempted to mooch or stare hungrily at the man.

Barely a minute later, his stomach growls audibly, a pained gurgle that lasts for several seconds. He flushes, but presses his mouth into a thin line. He won’t ask.

The man looks at him and exhales shortly, aggravated. Jounouchi concentrates on his intertwined fingers, studiously avoiding his piercing scrutiny.

Something falls into his lap and he jumps in alarm. He manages to catch the bread just before it falls into the grass, and when he does, he lifts his head questioningly. The man continues to eat without paying him any attention. Jounouchi realizes, startled, that he’s been given over half of the meal.

“Oh,” Jounouchi says, guiltily. After a moment’s hesitation, he tears his portion in half and tries to give the other part back. “Hey. Thanks, but you don’t need to give me so much, it’s your food—”

The other man sends him a brief glare. _“Don’t beg if you’re just going to try and give it back.”_

“Uhh,” Jounouchi says, arm fixed in place between them. The man doesn’t retake the bread,  so he figures he’s supposed to eat.

Biting into the food, he moans appreciatively. It’s not the best bread he’s ever tasted, but he’s so hungry it may as well be.

“Thanks,” he says through a mouthful of food, offering a smile filled with chewed dough.

Maybe he should’ve waited until he swallowed, because the man views him with mild revulsion. Jounouchi gulps down his bread and shrugs apologetically, but he inches closer to the other man, thoughtfully munching on another ravenous bite. The rock’s moss is smooth beneath his touch and he wonders vaguely if his jeans will stain. The sun beats warmly across his face.

“I’m Jounouchi. Actually, no, Jou,” he announces, deciding this guy isn’t so bad, and he should learn the name of the person who’s treating him to lunch. He goes with Jou, since he thinks it’ll be easier to remember due to the opposing languages. “Jou,” he says again with emphasis, pointing to himself. Then he points to the man, cocking his head inquisitively.

The man watches him unfathomably. Jounouchi fidgets, contemplating what he’ll do if he doesn’t answer, since the sword makes fist fights and noogies somewhat impractical.

 _“Seto,”_ he responds at last, and Jounouchi’s glad that the name is short, easy to remember. He’s never been talented at foreign languages, or at least, not in his experience at school.

“Seto,” Jounouchi says with a grin. “Thanks for lunch. Any person who’s a friend of food is a friend of mine.”

Seto studies him for a moment, then shakes his head with a snort. Jounouchi settles back and finishes his meal.

**Author's Note:**

> Will be continued! :D


End file.
